


but my good friends is all i need

by zinthos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Canon-Compliant, Gen, and immature, ignis is done with them, obscene drawings, or rather boys being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 19:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinthos/pseuds/zinthos
Summary: Low budget roadtrip of a lifetime. But,listen, these boys hav'ta find a way to enjoy themselves!"What?" Noctis asks, walking closer to the haven's fire. "Did I sleep talk--shitdid I say something embarrassing? It's not true or whatever..."





	1. ignis cannot even with this childishness

Noctis is the last to wake up. Like always.

He blinks his eyes, staring at the tent’s roof before slowly allowing sleep to pull him back in. Except he can’t  _really_  do that. For the third time. He’s been trying to wake up since dawn but like why. People that wake up as the sun rises aren’t normal.

He groans as he rolls over on the tent floor, hugging his pillow and hiding his face into it. His eyes sting even as they remain closed, mind fuzzy despite his senses becoming more alert.

The others are outside; he can hear pots and pans, the sizzle of a late breakfast made especially for the very late riser. 

“But why,” Noctis whispers to himself as he forces himself to lift himself up into a kneel. He rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes, runs his fingers through his terribly unruly bedhead. 

He stares at his pillow and the black smudges. But he doesn’t pay much attention to it. Things are bound to get all dirty traveling in the Regalia’s trunk, right? Right.

“I hear him stirring,” Prompto says from the other side of the tent.

Noctis rolls his way towards the entrance, unzipping it and swaying up to his feet.

“Mornin’…”

He doesn’t quite receive a reply, which is unusual, especially from Specs. Not that he ever expects a reply but he does get them. _Especially from Specs_. He opens an eye and stares at his friends staring back at him.

Gladio’s got a fist pressed to his mouth, cheeks puffed with the snickers he’s trying to swallow back down. Prompto’s in a rather similar predicament but _Ignis_ looks entirely appalled. 

His green eyes are wide and horrified behind his glasses, lips pressed into a thin line that only ever happens when he’s about to, what was it that Prompto said, _lose his shit_.

“What?” Noctis asks, walking closer to the haven’s fire. “Did I sleep talk— _shit_ , did I say something embarrassing? It’s not true or whatever…”

“Heh,” Prompto chuckles but then yelps when Ignis makes to smack him with his spatula. “It wasn’t  _me_!”

“I don’t understand.”

Noctis thinks it’s _way_ too early for this (it’s nearly noon). Like, why are they looking at him as if he’s grown three new heads. Or, like. If he’s pushed someone off a train or something. Literally, all Noctis wants is some food consisting of no fruits or vegetables but extra meat _and_ more sleep.

“Highness,” Specs begins and then pauses. He clears his throat and turns to turn the camp stove’s fire off. “It would seem… I…” He sighs. “It is best if you come with me.”

Noctis turns to the other two who are already succumbing into their laughter. At any other moment, Noct would surely join in, despite having not a single ounce of a clue on what’s happening. Right now, though, he’s _really_ confused.

“Childish,” Ignis sneers.

Noctis still doesn’t understand but he lets Ignis lead him away, turning to look at Gladio and Prompto over his shoulder when he hears their quiet, choked snickers turn into hysterical laughter.

Noct whacks branches out of his way, following Specs to the river they’d passed yesterday while on their way to the haven. 

“Okay…” Noctis places his hands on his hips. He eyes the river from afar then turns back to Ignis, his expression as confused and incredulous as ever. “But… why?”

Ignis crouches down and wets a handkerchief, squeezes the excess water out. Noctis takes this time to lean forward until his reflection comes into view on the river’s surface.

And he blanches out at the sight.

The black smudges on his pillow…. Definitely _no_ t the Regalia’s fault… Noctis moves closer, narrows his dark blue eyes as he inspects the art on his cheeks.

Dicks.

Those are _dicks_ on his cheeks.

Like, right there.

On his cheeks.

Comically drawn dicks, dripping… dripping… Noctis narrows his eyes further as Specs clears his throat one more time. An awkward sound. If Noctis didn’t know him any better he’d assume Ignis wants to laugh.

Noct tilts his head to one side and observes the hasty masterpiece. The _detail_. His cheeks burn pink. 

“What the  _hell_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are from my tumblr. they're all about this length and there's supposed to be 4 parts, but only 3 are written. these boys are immature as hell okay?! ~~also this is to make up for the thing im writing rn bc i was aiming for super lighthearted but so far its not but im trying ok~~
> 
> anyway get at me on twitter: @marsipans_ and i now have a ko-fi if u gais wanna show some love! it's @zinthos (((:


	2. noctis is up early but that's not the point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio stares for a second, mouth open and his spoon halfway up to feed him. Ignis slowly tilts his head to the side and observes him with clinical interest.

In hammerhead.

The sun is out, rising, brightening. But as gross and annoying as  _that_  sounds, it’s not what wakes Noctis up. He’s actually awake early – a job he’s done  _on his own_ , rather than the usual routine of having one of the others spend hours trying to do so.

Ignis stares at him as he sits on one of the plastic chairs outside the trailer, green eyes narrowed and suspicious. Noctis makes a show to yawn and rub his eyes to show he’s actually still really tired and this is all torture.

Which, honestly, is not a lie…

Still, he drinks his coffee with a straight face, staring at the dirt ground and blinking ten times in a second. His mind is just going on tangent over how _gross_ coffee is and how much torture drinking it is when Gladio opens the trailer door and hops down, muttering a slurred good morning.

“Well,” he breathes, pausing at the sight of Noctis. “Ain’t this a surprise.”

“More than a surprise, I think,” Ignis chips in. he hands them their breakfast.

“What’s got you out and about at this  _ungodly_  hour?” Gladio asks, an eyebrow raised and his expression curious. He turns in the direction of Hammerhead and then back to Noctis. “It ain’t Cindy, is it? She doesn’t look your type.”

Noctis sips at his coffee, still with a straight face because this stuff is _still_ gross, and considers remaining quiet. What does Gladio even know of his type—like, not even  _he_  knows about his type. What exactly does he even mean by  _type_?

“Pfft,” he snorts. “Yeah.”

Thankfully the sarcasm is not lost and they eat their breakfast in silence.

Prompto, surprisingly the last to wake up, whistles as he steps out of the trailer, finger-combing his hair and looking bright and chipper for this ridiculous hour. Noctis eyes him for a second and then quickly looks down at the ground, hiding behind his coffee mug.

“Hello my fellow choco _bros_ ,” he happily greets. His grin is crooked, violet-blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “I’m gonna skip breakfast for a minute.”

Gladio stares at him for a second, mouth open and his spoon halfway up to feed him. Ignis slowly tilts his head to the side and observes him with clinical interest.

Or disinterest.

Can’t really tell with Specs.

“Hey Noct,” Prompto turns to him and Noctis looks up. His eyes land on the majestic, engorged and, uh, nicely drawn dick on either of his best friend’s cheeks. Both pointing towards his mouth.

They’re better drawn than the ones he’d had on his own face a few days (weeks?) ago. Of course they are.  _He_  drew these. And Noct may be a lazy bum but, hell, if he has to do something then he might as well do it  _good_.

“You’re up early,” Prompto finishes and points out the unusual thing of the day.

“Mhmm,” Noctis hums because he doesn’t trust his voice.  _Damn,_ he did a good job.

“Well!” Prompto turns away from them. “I’m going to go talk to Cindy.”

And he leaves.

Ignis raises a hand towards him, finger pointing. “But…”

Gladio’s laugh is like thunder in the air. Noctis grins against his coffee mug.


	3. prompto's not surprised he loses his already nonexistent shot with a greasemonkey princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iggy turns away from the stove, newspaper forgotten, and gives a long, tortured sigh. He drops the towel. It’s so obvious in the way he looks _so done_. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

It’s not like Prompto has a deathwish.

Quite frankly, Prompto  _clings_  to life. Flails in the opposite direction of danger because he just  _knows_  that he’s the weakest link in most circumstances. And he’s okay with that! Because he  _tries_  and that is  _enough_  in his book.

But he draws a line when he’s got dicks on his face while he attempts to awkwardly flirt with pretty people. As if he needs help ruining any chance he’s got.

So, obviously, repercussions are to be made. Vengeance is to be taken. And that is why he’d woken up well into the night—three in the morning, he reminds himself—and hovered over Gladio’s ugly sleeping face and drawn an enormous dick right smack on his forehead. And, like, dripping-drops by his mouth because  _why the hell not_.

But he doesn’t have a deathwish.  _Really_.

He’s just a precious chocobo scorned.

Come morning, Prompto’s got the jitters. He laughs awkwardly when Iggy continuously shoots him questioning glances. And judging ones too; no one’s got an ‘I’m judging you so hard and I don’t care how obvious it is’ face like Ignis. Prompto gets those a lot. He’s used to them.

Still, he laughs and shifts in his seat and makes sure Ignis is absorbed in making breakfast every time he shoots a glance in the direction of the bedrooms.

Jeez, he really hopes Noct wakes up before Gladio. That way all suspicion won’t just land on him….. Maybe he should have drawn something on Noct?

Wait no. That would make it even more suspicious.

Maybe he should have drawn some on  _himself_ …

Prompto presses his lips together and plays with his tamed bedhead. He’s suddenly having second thoughts.

Maybe it  _wasn’t_  Gladio that drew the dicks…. what if it was Noct?

OR WORSE.

What if it was  _Ignis_?

Prompto gasps softly and turns his scandalized expression towards the man in question. Pressed lips and rumpled appearance Ignis leans against the counters of the kitchenette, very intrigued by the morning paper while also looking too innocent for this war.

Okay… so what if it was  _Noct_?

But then… if it was Noct, why would he draw dicks on his own face?

No, no. Prompto shakes his head. This is definitely all Gladio’s fault and he deserves the enormous, veiny, and terribly drawn—jeez, he should have taken art class in high school—dick on his forehead. And the sperm by his lips too.

Though, to be fair, those droplets could be considered raindrops. He should have thought better about all this but it was three in the morning and he was panicking.

The door to the bedroom opens and Prompto watches, eyes wide and pupils possibly dilated. But it’s just Noct that appears with the worst case of bedhead, eyes still closed, shirt drawn up so his nails can properly scratch an itch along the happy trail under his belly-button.

Noctis cracks an eye open. He probably feels the anxious, heavy stare he’s sending his way, Prompto assumes.

“What’s up your ass so early in the mornin’?” he drawls with a rasp. Has anyone told Noct he speaks like a street rat and  _not_  like a prince? It’s so hilarious.

“Pfft,” Prompto scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy. I’m just sipping my orange juice. Fresh squeezed.”

“Heh.” Noctis gives him a sloppy grin. Prompto chokes and snickers. They’re so immature and dumb, he’s _really_ glad they haven’t changed one _bit_.

Gladio rises exactly fifteen minutes after. Probably thanks to the smell of breakfast that’s starting to overtake the dingy little place.

Prompto quickly pretends to be engrossed in shoving his juice in Noct’s face. But he’s ignored because Noct’s eyes are wide, gray-blue and glued on Gladio.

Prompto turns to the man and, once again, chokes at the dick right smack on his forehead.

“What?” Gladio asks, scratching at his half-assed beard. “S’there something on my face?”

Iggy turns away from the stove, newspaper forgotten, and gives a long, tortured sigh. He drops the towel. It’s so obvious in the way he looks _so done_. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is out of my system. when i'll write the last part, who knows. so i'm gonna set it in as complete for now.


End file.
